


cardiopulmonary resuscitation (you keep me breathing, baby)

by myfatetohell



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Dermatillomania, Fluff, M/M, OCD, Summer of Like, Trichotillomania, kind of anyway, lowercase intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfatetohell/pseuds/myfatetohell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when everything falls apart around mikey, pete is unfailingly there.<br/>and sometimes that's what he needs most.<br/>x<br/>or, the one where mikey has a thing for pete and the number five and self destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cardiopulmonary resuscitation (you keep me breathing, baby)

mikey cards his hand through his ever-thinning hair _(one, two, three, four,)_ five times, and he takes a shaky breath. his fingers glide to his upper arm where the nails pull and pry at a single small scab among dozens that speckle his arms and neck and chest and hands. he’s got a weary purple-ish tint ringing his gorgeous hazel eyes, and that’s when pete asks. they’re sitting on top of the fall out boy bus, legs swinging off the edge, and pete’s got his head against mikey’s bony shoulder, and that’s when he says to mikey, “it’s getting bad again.” he doesn’t really know if it’s a question disguised as a statement or vice versa or if it even really matters, and he decides that it probably doesn’t because now mikey’s hand is travelling away from his arm and up to the crown of his head. those slender bony fingers select a long brown strand of flat-ironed hair, twist it around like spaghetti on a fork in a cartoon, and free it from his own scalp with a sharp tug, letting it convulse in the breeze as it flutters to the ground below.

“i guess.”

god, he sounds _exhausted_.

pete takes one of mikey’s hands and clutches in his like it’s precious, brushes a kiss over the raw knuckles, weaves the skinny boy’s fingers with his own. “what’s on your mind?”

mikey shrugs and pete almost wants to laugh because _mikey_ , mikey is the _king_ of shrugs and half-assed answers and seldom-varying expressions that don’t betray a drop of emotion. he doesn’t laugh, however, and then monotonous words chase the shrug.

“i don’t know.”

 _(inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale.)_ inhale. exhale. pete can almost hear mikey counting out the breaths in his head. “everything’s just stuck,” he says. _(tap tap tap tap)_ taps his skull. “in here.”

pete bites his lip. “can i help?” he says, and what he doesn’t say is _can i be your breaths so you won’t have to count each one you take? can i hold you close to me forever and kiss you as many times as you need me to and never let you go? can i save you?_

'cause he know the answer is no. and mikey knows it too.

mikey cradles pete’s face and suddenly he’s kissing him, long and deep and warm.

“do- do- d- don- d- do-” mikey stutters once the kiss breaks, punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. he jerks his head to the side five times in quick succession, takes a deep breath, and tries again. “ _(don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,)_ don’t leave me.”

pete cracks a smile and presses another soft kiss to his lips. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

and mikey mirrors a ghost of pete’s crooked grin, one side of his mouth curling upwards.

x

then once they reach the hotel room that night pete slides his hands beneath mikey’s shirt and pushes it up and off of his body and mikey does the same to pete, pushing him up against the wall and capturing him in a desperate kiss. hands trace everywhere and pete has his head thrown back against the wall and mikey is mouthing at pete’s neck and collarbones, over his arteries and tendons, whispering,“i love you, _(i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you)_ ” every time he stops to breathe, like a mantra. he grips pete’s hip bones and lets go, _(grips and lets go, grips and lets go, grips and lets go, grips and lets go,)_ and pete tugs on mikey’s lower lip with his teeth and fists his hands in the taller boy’s hair and mikey lets out a soft noise, nails digging into pete’s tan skin.

x

in the darkness, some time later, a few whispered words break the dead silence.

“ _(you, you, you, you,)_ you make them come unstuck, pete. eventually…you always help me get them out.”

he pauses.

“know what i mean?”

pete ponders for a moment before replying, and he can hear mikey’s breath snag in his throat.

“i do, mikeyway. i do.”

and with those words comes everything he didn’t say before and he knows that mikey can hear them all.

because pete wraps his arms around mikey’s waist as mikey washes _(and washes and washes and washes and washes)_ his hands until they practically bleed, and pete is patient as mikey shakes _(shakes, shakes, shakes, shakes)_ his head and tries again until he gets it right, and pete kisses mikey before mikey goes to check the lock on the door for the _(first, second, third, fourth)_ fifth time and pete smooths mikey’s hair over the bald spots and pete is the only thing that feels right on the nights mikey convulses and shakes and chokes on his tears because everything feels so wrong _(wrong wrong wrong wrong)_.

when everything falls apart around mikey, pete is unfailingly there.

and sometimes that’s what he needs most.

x

(end)

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! this is my first fic on here, shoot me a comment! :)  
> my tumblr is myfatetohell.tumblr.com  
> and for anyone who doesn't know: trichotillomania and dermatillomania are disorders involving pulling out one's hair or picking at one's skin, respectively. they're categorized as "body-focused repetetive behaviors" (BFRBs) and they're typically associated with anxiety, OCD, ADD/ADHD, and sometimes autism. i have OCD and used to have trich and derma, and mikey's issues in this fic are largely based on my own struggles.
> 
> update: i changed a few minor things because i wanted to make it clear that love does not in any way "fix" mental illness and the implication makes mentally ill people in totally healthy relationships worry that they're doing something wrong, so that's something i want to avoid entirely.


End file.
